


blue eyes, she's coming for you

by scatteredmoonlight



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Banter, Clothing Kink, F/M, Naked Male Clothed Female, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, ambiguously set after season 8 with jon back in winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteredmoonlight/pseuds/scatteredmoonlight
Summary: Jon loves the embroidery Sansa sews onto her gowns. He loves the gowns off of her and on the floor even better.





	blue eyes, she's coming for you

Sansa cut slips of pale blue cloth to ready for her wooden embroidery hoop frames. Her dresses were flush with designs, on occasion even her sleepwear, and Jon always loved the intricate stitches, making haste to tear the gowns off her before she had the chance to cozy up in her pajamas after a taxing day. She intended to begin the patches tonight for her day dresses to create a texture over her bosom without revealing her figure. It was her project of the week.

Tonight she wore one of her latest projects. She sewed directly onto a gown she found buried in her old room in Winterfell before she became Queen, by some miracle the gown untouched over the passage of time. She secured the hoop ring directly to the fabric and sewed an ostentatious direwolf, white and light grey like Lady, and it had quickly been chucked to the floor as soon as Jon saw it, his face then buried in her cunt just as fast. He was due to turn in for the night soon, his duties arduous and stretching past his commonly held time table. 

She lied on the bed naked save for the gown, cutting slips of fabric and waiting.

*

Jon arrived exhausted out of his mind. The northern lords had strong opinions about how to handle the mountain clans, and Jon cared a great deal about their input, but he liked breaks, too. He’d had enough time to catch bites to eat and work in a few jokes here and there, but the tediousness reminded him of his early days in the Night’s Watch against Alister Thorne.

He went to his bedchambers and slipped inside without a thought or care — only to stop short at the sight of Sansa.

She wore  _ that _ gown.

From the bottom of her pink soles to the flush, soft flesh of her thighs, her legs were fully exposed. He wanted to dive into her warmth with her legs hugging him, her thighs clenching his head in place as he licked her to new heights. He wanted to kiss her ankles and the peaks of her nipples, but none of that could happen with the dress still on.

She glanced up at him, then went back to her embroidery with a smirk. Miffed, Jon watched her as he undressed, removing his sword and stripping down until he wore nothing, naked as his name day.

He slipped under her dress so she could not see him, as she always was more wild and untamed in her reactions once left in the dark. He kissed her thigh and she shuddered, trying to grab hold of his head through the fabric of her dress, but she could not. He touched her lightly along her folds, tickling more than touching. Tools clattered on the side table and her hands slapped down onto the mattress, her legs tense. 

Jon could not help himself and laughed at her, smitten. He slipped a finger between her folds and fondled her entrance, slicking his thumb to tease her clitoris as he continued to play with her entrance. Her thighs opened up to grant him more space, and he willingly obliged in getting more comfort. Her ankles hitched over the small of his back and he reached back, pulling them higher above him. She slipped down a little on the bed in effect, and he kissed her thighs over and over until he left bruises. He felt a pull at his fingers within her and smirked.

Sansa felt herself growing mad, and Jon had yet to begin. She ached between her legs, pulsating, and though she never wanted him to stop, it grew increasingly harder to control herself. Her breaths came out short, her voice worked on its own accord. The worst was Jon’s mocking laughter — which he  _ always _ did, and she loved it, oh how she loved it — in both its humiliation and the vibrations reverberating from her thighs to her womanhood. She melted into the bed, not knowing what else to do when experiencing his whims.

She wanted more of him. She wanted to feel his warmth inside her. She was his Queen and they’d yet to have an heir, the moon cycle never right. “Jon, let’s — ohhh — try again tonight?”

Jon slipped four fingers as deep as they could go into her womanhood, waiting for her words to be broken by a pained, pleasured cry before speaking. “You want more Targaryens in the world, after all we’d seen?” He knew the answer.

“Many, many more than anyone has ever seen,” she said.

Jon kissed her southern lips, smiling at her gasp. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He slid the dress over her hips and resurfaced, pupils wider from the dark beneath her dress. Sansa grappled for a hold on him, pulling him up higher to kiss him. Though he’d never needed her help, and she relished in the weight of his muscles bearing down on her, pinning her to the bed and cutting off her breath. He felt himself for a few strokes before bringing his cock to her entrance, slipping inside. Sansa gasped and clenched around him at the first touch, but then he kissed her breasts over the gown and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to drench the fabric. The cloth clung to her, harsh against the sensitive skin. She forgot all about the thick cock penetrating her wetness.

Jon went in slowly to start, running hands along her ribs and coming to hold her hands over the pillows. They twined fingers. Her light panting was the purest of music, broken by a gasp as he took her nipple between his teeth and pulled. He released her and watched as her breasts moved in reaction. Hungry for her, he kissed her on the mouth. She dragged her tongue into him and they tasted each other without abandon.

She felt a warmth enter her, not a thick wetness but a slight heat, the preemptive coming before Jon faded into an eventual bliss. Sansa counted the seconds since she first felt it. 

“Targaryens,” she whispered wickedly against his lips.

He smiled. “No one tell King Robert. What we’re doing could get us killed.”

A burble of amusement rose up in her. “I’m afraid I’m a little loud.”

“I can fix that.”

He grabbed some abandoned cloth and looked at her with a question in his eye. Her eyes glimmered with arousal at the sight of the cloth, and she opened her mouth. His cock flinched inside her. He loved her, he wanted her, he needed her. He wrapped the cloth around her mouth, pulling her hair out from beneath before tying the knot.

She tested it by uttering something inintelligible, Jon could not tell, but he had to stop looking or else he might come on the spot. 

He pounded into her. Moans flooded out from her and were caught in the cloth. Her eyes fluttered shut and Jon held her down with fingers holding her red hair, even though she was not going anywhere. He felt his seed building, and it seemed she did too. As he came into her, she cried out his name so loudly, it came faintly through the cloth.

He tore it off to kiss her. He rolled onto his back and let her ride him to her climax. She touched herself, head thrown back in ecstasy. As his arousal died down, they waited as he softened inside her, waiting for as much of his seed to remain, and her walls clenched in passion around him as she came in a cry. He watched her come, rubbing her thighs beneath the gown.

She stayed for awhile there, calming down with slow breaths, and then lied down beside him, thighs held close to prevent his seed from slipping out. She lied over his chest and glanced up at him shyly. “I thought you did not like me in these gowns.”

He kissed her forehead. “Changed my mind.”


End file.
